Tag Archives: forgiveness

How Forgiveness, Death & Dying Taught Me to Love Infinitely Bigger

January 29, 2016Death, Forgiveness, Grief, Life Coach, PerceptionAndrew Belle, Authenticity, Cancer, death, Divorce, Ego, forgiveness, Greenland, grief, Ittoqqortoormiit, Jerry Seinfeld, Judgment, Life, Michael Stipe, NPR, Perception, purposeful perception, REMBorn to Be

Recommended Reading Soundtrack: Dark Matter by Andrew Belle on Black Bear

Is it really 2016 already? Clearly I’ve been out of the loop with my writing and once you pass a certain timeline it’s like you’re Jerry Seinfeld in that episode where he can’t remember the name of the girl he’s dating but it’s too late to ask her. What did it rhyme with again? Awkward!

In the spirit of the New Year, I thought I’d come clean on my online absence and connect with y’all on what’s been clouding my own purposeful perception. Last year I was gifted with an abundance of dreamy opportunities to reevaluate how I authentically support my passions. In a way it was one of the most illuminating years I’ve ever experienced in finding my voice. And, it’s not that my voice was lost. It was simply ready for a bit of refining around the truth behind my art.

Sometimes our minds have so much noise in them it’s like we have a microphone loudly spewing static in our heads. And suddenly, REM’s Michael Stipe has taken over everyone’s voice box shouting “What’s the frequency, Kenneth!” over and over again until you just can’t stand it anymore. Our mental static acts as a truth deterrent.

Life, Cancer & Death

It’s those deep troughs in life that make us stop and question our choices and how they support what we say we want in life. At the beginning of last summer it was shared with me that my ex-husband was delivered a grim diagnosis of stage 4 colon cancer that had spread into other vital organs.

Only a few months later I learned that his cancer progressed and he suddenly passed away, leaving behind his young daughter and many shocked, devastated friends. When we divorced there was a lot of anger that fueled a regretful and sorrowful separation from his daughter. It was never addressed between us again.

And now, it never will be.

“Unforgiveable”

Sadly, my heart had harbored a spark of hope that one day it would resurface in the form of forgiveness. Instead I found myself reliving my divorce with the added bonus of painful, lingering memories. I grieved alone the death of someone that I loved, despite all the crap that we slung at one another. I went to the dark side and found myself scanning through old emails only to find the last words he ever said to me, “What you did to me and my daughter is unforgivable.”

What we choose to say to others, even in our lowest points, has consequences. In reading these words I felt a profound sadness different from the past. I felt distraught that even in facing death we can allow our stubbornness and the need to make someone wrong get in the way of forgiveness. Our mortality is irreversible.

It is easy for us to take for granted the miracles that abound from every little connection we make in life. The support of our relationships can collapse around us at any moment with life’s endings. Every word we share with another is an opportunity to be kind and practice love. We can choose to live life as a prayer of self-forgiveness that heals our hearts and frees others from the chains of past judgments. The challenge arose for me in forgiving myself without any possibility of forgiveness from the other party, a one sided conversation.

So I went on a little journey and after weeks of carrying around the emotional weight of his death, our past, and the inability to tell his daughter that I loved her, that I was sorry- I reached a general consensus with all the voices I’ve invented in my head. It yielded a new commitment to never compromise my truth again. Life is a collage of precious moments worth much more than the value our ego places on it. This includes what we tolerate from others.

My self-declaration forced some positive, life altering changes.

Six months later, I am now ready to get back in the twinkle light parade. What does that mean, exactly?

Welcome back, my dear friend. Welcome back the sun.

Village_Sun — Julianne Kuko, 9, holds a drawing of the sun as she and her classmates perform a song to welcome the first sunrise in 58 days. Rebecca Hersher/NPR

I heard a touching story the other day on NPR about a tiny town in Greenland called Ittoqqortoormiit that has been without sunlight for 58 days. The town’s seasonal cycle of darkness recently ended and as the sun rose for the first time since November children gathered in a circle on top of a hill with colorful cutouts of the sun.

Together they sang their traditional song, “Welcome back, my dear friend. Welcome back the sun.” Hearing the song reminded me of how I feel coming out of the wormhole that was my last 6 months. Every now and then we are gifted with a glimpse into the magnificence that we are through the abundance of love and lack thereof bustling around us. It’s what we do with this personal glimpse of light rising out of our darkness that matters.

Today, and forever- Let’s Rock Big Love! Jess

Leaving Where We Come From

February 3, 2015Acceptance, Forgiveness, HopeAttachment, Compassion, Denial, Distant Cousins, Expectations, forgiveness, grief, Hope, Jason Bateman, Life, Margaret Atwood, Perception, Self Perception, This Is Where I Leave You, Wall-eBorn to Be

Recommended Reading Soundtrack: On Your Own by Distant Cousins

There are moments in our lives when we grieve. When they happen, I feel we go through a deciphering process of what it is that we are really grieving versus what we think we are grieving. Our heart rests in that moment between you and an emotional hankering for what you thought you knew- sadness, joy, forgiveness and love. These are the things that we take with us, no matter how far away the plane ride or the drive is from where you come from.

But the question remains, why is it so hard to leave where we come from?

There are scores of films, music and books about it. And I seem to gravitate toward many of these stories. Our story is a powerful thing, easily mixing with every form of communication we have created. All of our stories have one thing in common- the truth of who we are is buried inside of us along with veils of expectations, perceptions and sometimes denial. The human heart will always play the role of the decipherer and give us the direction we are constantly seeking amidst all of these veils.

As I was re-watching the ending of the film “This Is Where I Leave You”, that old familiar song began to play in my heart. The emotions welled as Jason Bateman’s character says farewell to his family after coming together for his father’s funeral. Each sibling goes their separate ways, but even though they were physically going in different directions, you can see the inner conflict in their faces and body language. No words were needed, just a great song and a look to say it all.

Where we come from is more than a house, more than some land, and more than a voice that replays over and over again in our head like a mixed tape. It’s a complicated, dimensional tale that produced not only who we have chosen to be, but how we react to the world around us, and every judgment we hold against ourselves (beware!). When you pull all of that together into a person, a magical thing unfolds- life.

Sometimes it does not seem so magical to the eye, but we just keep truck’n nonetheless. Why? I’m sure you, me and everyone around us continues to ask this question- especially when you want to pull your hair out and just throw your cell phone, computer or tablet into a lake. Giving up seems like this big open space that could potentially swallow up all of our frustrations without much harm. But is giving up letting go of our expectations or deciding not to believe in our dreams anymore?

“Don’t give up hope. It’s a chore.” Margaret Atwood

Recently I had the great opportunity to hear an interview with author Margaret Atwood. At the end of the interview, the journalist asked her if she had one last thing she wanted to say to the audience. Quickly she scrambled to say, “Don’t give up hope. It’s a chore.” Wise words? Wise words, indeed. What if leaving where we came from wasn’t about saying goodbye to all that good stuff that makes us who we are today, but about embracing it and knowing that it will always be there in every good thing you do?

I can’t help but be intrigued by these words of wisdom by Ms. Atwood. The idea that choosing hope over all the naysayers (we are our toughest critics!) and really believing in yourself and your dreams is not something that just happens- that you have to perpetuate it and be conscious of it like any other practice. All I can do is repeat it over and over again like a mantra- a song, a story.

So, this is where I leave you. Remember, “Don’t give up hope. It’s a chore.” You have to keep on truck’n- your life is worth it.

Abandoning My Abandonment with a Song for You

October 8, 2014Acceptance, Attachment, ForgivenessAbandonment, Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta, Alexi Murdoch, Attachment, Autumn, co-dependent, Custody, Divorce, forgiveness, karma, Life, new mexico, Perception, Sam Smith, Self Perception, Stay with Me, The HelpBorn to Be

Recommended Reading Soundtrack: Song for You by Alexi Murdoch on album Four Songs

Autumn is my favorite season in New Mexico. The weather holds a place in my soul as cool contentment, and to top it off, the ABQ International Balloon Fiesta whisks away the hot summer and carries with it sweet relief. As the aspen leaves change to a gleaming yellow on the mountain side and begin their annual transformation, it is also an ideal time in my heart to reflect on any baggage I’ve been carrying around that is also ready to transform and break away into the potential for new growth.

Stay with Me

As I drove to work this morning in bumper to bumper traffic due to the parade of balloons riding the breeze over our roadways, I found myself reluctantly sucked into the song “Stay with Me” by Sam Smith and realized it was time for me to come clean with my greatest fear- abandonment. The thing is, I’ve come to the realization that this time it is not about me feeling abandoned, but the guilt I carry every day for feeling like I abandoned my step-daughter and how that made her feel, with no opportunity to tell her that I am sorry.

What If?

In all the times I have felt alone and abandoned, the thought of causing another human being the same pain is like torture for me. It has been an issue for me my whole life and a major source of my old co-dependency issues. A struggle that pushes and pulls my heart strings, leaving me feeling suspended over an empty ocean. But a wise teacher once told me that when you experience pushing and pulling in your heart, you are not living from your greatest potential, you are living in fear’s shadow of “what if”. My fear has always been rooted in avoiding hurting others, without the realization that people are responsible for managing their own suffering. Yet, when the other person became a child the game changed for me.

I had made the decision to end my marriage because I witnessed how my unhealthy relationship with my step-daughter’s father was affecting her in a negative way and causing her to feel responsible for the management of my own emotional pain. The cycle of the “balancer” was unfolding before my very own “balancer” eyes, and I knew it was unfair to her. She deserved more.

You is kind. You is smart. You is important.

Being shut out from a step-child without any communication is so painful. There is a scene at the end of the film “The Help” when Aibleen is fired and must leave behind her employer’s child who she had been raising for the duration of the child’s life. And she is forced to say goodbye to a little girl, knowing there is no way she can understand why she is leaving. Knowing that she will think Aibleen has abandoned her. The scene captures everything that I felt in having to walk away from my marriage without the opportunity to give consolation to this dear child that had such a profound impact in my life.

I would have done anything to say, “I love you with all my heart, I will always think of you as a daughter, and would be honored to continue to play a role in your life.” But karma did not allow for this gift. And, so it goes.

Now it is time for me to place this unrelenting sadness into the fire of one of those illuminated balloons floating over New Mexico and watch it disappear into the morning sunrise. It is time for me to abandon my abandonment and trust that all the conversations I’ve had in my head and in my dreams with her have somehow reached through time and space and given her peace. Sometimes there is nothing else we can do but let it go in pure, unattached love. This time I shall watch my abandonment float away with a wish that you may know how loved and beautiful you are, always.

So Dear A, in the words of Alexi Murdoch in his “Song For You,”

So today I wrote a song for you
Cause a day can get so long
And I know it’s hard to make it through
When you say there’s something wrong

So I’m trying to put it right
Cause I want to love you with my heart
All this trying has made me tired
And I don’t know even where to start

Maybe that’s a start.

GROUP EXERCISE- Reflections on Owning Your Uncool

In your own quest to live your life from your greatest potential, your Rock Star Self, what is a great fear that you have avoided looking at and accepting? How has this fear prohibited you from living your life from a place of joy, and what opportunities have you chosen not to take because of this fear? This is a moment to seize in your vulnerability, and share with the deepest part of your self that is patiently waiting to connect with you. Embrace your “uncool” and Rock Big Love!

Limitless? “Get Real!”

October 2, 2014Compassion, Forgiveness, Life CoachBallet, Cameron Crowe, Compassion, Death Railway, Ego, Elizabethtown, Eric Lomax, forgiveness, Free Bird, grief, Life, Limitless, peace, Perception, Phenomenon, Potential, purposeful perception, Self Perception, Stubborness, Takashi Nagase, The Railway Man, Whitley, World War IIBorn to Be

Recommended Reading Soundtrack: “More than Life” by Whitley on album The Submarine

There are those moments tied to places from our past that emit a certain electricity. Times where we have felt right on our game, and nothing was going to get in our way of accomplishing our “Mission Impossible.” Growing up, ballet class was not one of those places for me. There were times in ballet class when I just wanted to disappear; when I ruthlessly compared myself to the “tiny” pretty girls and made unconscious decisions about my own “potential.” But I loved to dance so much that I continued in my Marcia Sue School of Dance class off that country road behind a donut shop from the time I was a smiling naïve kindergartner to a crazy teenager in high school.

I remember one afternoon while we were stretching our teacher asked us as a group what our dream was for our future. There were lots of “classic” answers. One of my classmates that I had known for years stated the trendy answer for girls in the late 80s/early 90s, “President of the United States.” I remember thinking, “why would anyone want that job!” I still feel that way, honestly. But I digress.

To me, the idea behind our “potential” as human beings contains a lot of emotional and sexist rhetoric. Defining what our greatest potential really means is a topic that intrigues me, especially as I engage in analyzing my own root belief systems and negativity.

The Quest to Define Our Potential with the Ego

There is a lot of talk out there about our inability to acknowledge the limitless nature of our potential as human beings. There are movies about it with titles so simple, how could we question their content? Titles like, “Limitless.” Or, one of my favorites? “Phenomenon!” We place a lot of limits around ourselves regardless- and they constantly transform. Stubbornness, and the need to make someone we are angry with wrong, is probably one of the most common limits I see in my work on myself, and with others.

But recently, I saw a film that blew my mind when I least expected it. As I sat in silence after the end of this heart wrenching story about a tortured soul and their abuser, I thought to myself, “Wow, now there is a man that truly lived his greatest potential. I can only hope I can love as big as he did.” The story was based on the autobiography, The Railway Man, by Eric Lomax. Lomax was a British Army officer who was sent to a Japanese POW camp in 1942 with the surrender of Singapore and forced to participate in building the well-known “Death Railway” in Thailand.

While in the camp he was tortured for telling the truth, and although he physically survived the torture and war, his heart was tormented and in pain for most of his life. In the early 80s he fell in love and remarried a woman that loved him so deeply, she was willing to risk losing her husband to help him heal his psychological wounds. This involved confronting the darkness that he was not able to reveal, even to her.

Lomax’s closest friend and also a former POW from the same camp located the interrogator that largely participated in his psychological and physical torture. His interrogator, Takashi Nagase, was living in Thailand and as part of his own personal atonement for participating in the war, had financed a Buddhist temple and museum near the bridge at the River Kwai where he gave tours. Lomax was determined to go to Thailand and kill him, but what ended up happening is an incredible story of forgiveness and reconciliation.

Owning Our Inner Freebird!

Lomax ended up becoming good friends with Nagase, a man that lived in his head as his greatest enemy for 40 years. How is it, that something so extraordinary, can happen? This is the truth of our potential as human beings. To be able to recognize that ignorance can cause someone to act out wrongly and truly see that their ignorance was not their truth. To be able to reconcile with our enemy is the greatest gift we can give to our self, and will enable us to move beyond beliefs that keep us stationary in life. Freedom in our hearts, that “Free Bird” if you will (having visions of a papier mache bird on fire comically flying over the heads of memorial attendees in Cameron Crowe’s Elizabethtown here!) has the potential to take you to unimaginable heights. These heights are only determined by you, and your own purpose in life. It is up to each of us to question what brings us joy- even if that means being the “President of the United States?”

Time to Get Real

The idea of embracing our limitless potential is about getting real with ourselves. If you can’t look into the mirror and question yourself, “where am I putting up a big STOP sign in my heart,” then you will continue to experience limitations behind the inability to forgive. I do believe it exists, this limitless potential, but without one another we can’t get there. Each of us has a gift to give to the world, to one another- it just may not be what you “think” it is. Now then, let’s REALLY get real!

In Hope Let Freedom Be in All of This

July 10, 2014Compassion, Forgiveness, Freedom, PerceptionAmy Goodman, Attachment, Chelsea Manning, Compassion, Democracy Now, Edward Snowden, Ego, Empowerment, forgiveness, Freedom, Gratefulness, Julian Assange, Life, Nelson Mandela, Perception, purposeful perception, Self Perception, The Naked and the Famous, The Soup Dragons, WikiLeaksBorn to Be

Recommended Listening Soundtrack: All of This by The Naked and Famous

As I walked out the door to the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn’t leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I’d still be in prison. Nelson Mandela

Julian Assange. Chelsea Manning. Edward Snowden. Palestinians. Israelis. You. Me. Everyone. What do we all have in common? This question vexes me, and is one I have been unable to ignore since a run-in with one of my favorite songs, an interview on Democracy Now and the US’s most recent national holiday on the 4^th of July.

When the song by The Soup Dragons titled I’m Free came out, me and 2 of my best friends with a new license to drive would whirl around town blaring that song over and over again (when I say over and over again, I really mean OVER AND OVER again). It was perfect teen Saturday night fodder that fed our perception of delusional freedom- or was it delusional? We bonded through that song, and I still love to pretend in my own delusional reality that this white girl can hang during the Reggae outburst toward the song’s end.

Best singing in car scene ever, courtesy of Wayne’s World!

As I was singing along to it again recently, it coincidentally fell upon my ears following the US’s national 4^th of July holiday. A holiday that is supposed to be about celebrating “freedom.” And, as I later was listening to an interview with WikiLeaks co-founder Julian Assange the same day, I found myself confused at a clogged up intersection of questions and fate in my heart regarding this mythological word we use quite frequently, freedom. Personal freedom. Freedom of choice. Freedom of speech. Freedom of press. Freedom of expression. Our freedom. Their freedom. It all started a big racket in my head, with ideas and images honking at other ideas and images to just get out of the way!

Nelson Mandela imprisoned, photo from NPR story July 2nd 2013, Louise Gubb/Corbis

After being imprisoned for 27 years, Nelson Mandela was quoted as saying, “As I walked out the door to the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn’t leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I’d still be in prison.” This statement is so profound, as it points out that imprisonment is beyond our physical world, it starts in our mind, and ripples outward like a broken dam. Yet as I write this, I can hear in the back of my head a distinct argumentative voice blabbering on, “Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. We’ve all heard that before.” All of us are engaged in the same challenge of deciphering between the imprisonment of the mind’s demons, our past and what it means to not be a slave to our thoughts.

What a challenge. To coexist in a world of hatred and a need for love and human contact. My younger self asks questions that really can’t be answered like, “Why does everything have to become so complicated?” As a teen, I was given the simple luxury of being able to drive around with my friends when I was in high school and sing along to a song like “I’m Free” by a group that actually, really called itself The Soup Dragons. And that memory will always make me laugh, and feel sad at the same time.

I had the option to question freedom and not worry that something could happen to me for speaking my mind or that someone would be listening to my telephone conversation and peg me as a troublemaker just because I questioned my government. But so many others don’t have the freedom to live in the naivety of the “teenage dream.” Many children and adults are still faced with painful challenges like, will their house still be standing by the end of the day or will they be kidnapped and even killed today because of a thousand year old belief system?

Conclusion? Our commonality outweighs the perception of “different.” Toward the end of the Amy Goodman interview she asked Julian Assange, whose been living a life of his own imprisonment in the London Ecuadorian embassy, “What gives you hope?” He answered, “Well, hopefully the greatest legacy is still to come.” No matter what we believe, we can all choose to meet in that place of hope and be a part of that legacy. It’s making that choice instead of empowering the ego driven “need to be right” that holds the key to finding that freedom together.

But for now, I’ll just rock away to the Soup Dragons and envision what it will feel like when we can collectively cross our self-imprisonment border of bitterness and hatred, see ourselves in one another, and smile without hesitation that anything is possible. “All of This” does not have to tear us apart.

My Funny Valentines- A Lumineers Moment

February 11, 2014DPChallenge, Gratefulness, Grief, Life Coach, Love, Mindfulness, StressChange, DPchallenge, Family, forgiveness, grandmother, Gratefulness, grief, Ho Hey, holiday stress, Life, love, Lumineers, valentinesBorn to Be

There are moments in our lives when we are given the great privilege to witness a deep, unimaginable love. It is during such moments that I wish I could bottle it up. And, whenever I feel a moment of high-test overwhelm or forgetfulness of what is most important in life, I could just pull it off a shelf, remove the top and take a nice deep breath. Perhaps that is why writing is so important to me, as it gives us that opportunity to hold fast to those moments in our hearts, and share them with the rest of the world in high hopes that it will simply multiply with every reader’s eyes and connecting spirit. Although, you wouldn’t know it by the unexplainable break I have taken from blogging!

My grandmother, Gertie, holding one of my favorite vocalists, my niece- Shaili.

But this daily prompt is another perfect opportunity to get back into the game of connecting with the brilliant hearts and minds reading this blog now. A year ago today, my grandmother, Gertie, passed away after a long life in a place called Long Island. With her passing I was left with one of those cherished privileges to witness this deep love that I have described, that resulted from a grand moment of togetherness and a mutual experience of grief. As her funeral occurred over “Valentine’s Day 2013” it would seem uncanny to not take this opportunity to recognize not only my grandmother, but also my entire family, as “My Funny Valentines” this year (I’m allowed more than one Valentine, right?).

It happened at the end. Bonding through wake after wake, and then the solidifying funeral. There we all were, hanging out in the living room of my Uncle Joe and Aunt Sue. My Uncle Joe’s obsession with DVR “cheese” was taking place over the television, and everyone was exhausted eating their desserts after a final meal together. But there was one gem within his DVR madness- the song “Ho Hey” performed by the Lumineers at the most recent Grammy Award celebration. My little niece and nephew, who were both 3 and 2 years old at the time, loved to divide the chorus between the two of them.

My 3 year old niece, belting out the words “I belong with you, you belong with me, you’re my sweetheart!”

My 2 year old nephew doing the same with, “Ho! Hey! Ho! Hey!”

We all sang with them in our melancholy and gratefulness, hence that song does not play to this day without the appearance of a tear running down my face. I love you all, my funny valentines! And most of all, I thank you grandma, for bringing us together at the end of your life for a smashing moment of enduring love that will flourish in my heart forever. Just remember, “I belong with you, you belong with me, you’re my sweetheart!”

In the spirit of the infinite space that resides within our hearts, I say let’s just “Rock Big Love” this week anyway, and forget about the hallmark holiday!